


a thousand miles from comfort

by babylxxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe, Famous Harry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Famous Louis, Pining, Tumblr, You Have Been Warned, famous/non-famous, i felt that tag was necessary cause all my other fics are either mcd or bittersweet ending, just a little i swear not like any of the other things i've posted, nosh is literally mentioned once or twice, so much pining, this is wild from start to finish, tumblr's such a big part of this i can't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/babylxxrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry returns with the ibuprofen, and again Louis is struck by how fucking lucky Harry’s future boyfriend/fiancé/husband is going to be. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he throws back the pills dry. He doesn’t really know why he doesn’t like the thought of Harry with someone else (yeah, of course he knows), but whenever he tries to picture Harry walking down the aisle to someone, that someone always morphs into himself. He blames it on Tumblr’s overactive imagination. He counted at least ten amazing edits/manips already making their rounds on his dash, various domestic scenes and some not-so safe for work scenes, mostly courtesy of Harry’s Twitter questions section. There’s been an influx of Larry Stylinson fanart, and everyone seems to ship it now.<br/>Fuck Tumblr.</p><p> </p><p>(or the one where Harry's famous and Louis' not and they're best friends. Harry brings Louis on tour with him, they perform together one night cause why not and Louis skyrockets to fame. Also Louis runs a Tumblr where he gets to watch fandom drama go down from a front-row seat.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a thousand miles from comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traumatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/gifts).



> yoooo okay so i'm so sorry this is so late, but it kinda ripped itself from my hands and ran away with ideas so here have 12k of pining louis and cutesy shit.  
> hope you enjoy this mess of a fic.  
> most of this has been betaed. i will update within the month with a fully betaed and britpicked version (it'll probably have much more plot too, as this particular end is kind of rushed and i'm not done with ideas yet anyways).
> 
>  
> 
> title comes from pentatonix's rather be.

 

 

Harry Styles, International Superstar. That’s something that Louis’ never quite going to get used to hearing about his best friend. Ever since Harry decided to go audition for The X-Factor back in 2012, Louis’ known that this was going to be something _huge_ , and he wasn’t wrong. Harry Styles tops all the charts when he comes out with a new single or album, he’s won a few fucking Grammys, he’s in a small group of singer/songwriters to come out as gay with a close-to-100% positive reception, and Louis is best friends with him. How the actual fuck.

Speak of the devil. Louis’ phone lights up with _HARREHBOOP_ accompanied by an unflattering chin shot of Harry.

“Ey Hazza, what’s up?” Louis swats his kitten Haribo away from the curtains as he answers the phone. As much as Harry insists that Haribo is named after him, _she’s not_.

“So you know I’ve got that tour coming up, right?”

“Yeah, what about?” Louis scoops up Haribo, who’s trying to claw her way up his trouser leg, and plops her on top of a couch cushion, where she curls up with a sigh and closes her eyes.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

“With you, like on tour?”

“Yeah, it’ll be grand. You can stay on my bus or the crew’s bus, you get free all-around passes at every concert, hangout time with me, being papped when we go out, all that good stuff.”

Louis pets Haribo as he contemplates the offer. “Well,” he teases, “the bus, all-around passes, and the paps sound fantastic. Not so sure about hanging out with you.”

“Heeeeey.” Harry’s voice is thick with indignation.

“Kidding, love. Sounds fantastic, sign me up.”

“Awesome. So tour starts in a month or so… May 10th, I’m pretty sure. We’re starting in Asia, and then working our way around to Australia, then to Canada and the US, down to South America, and then over to Europe before the home shows. It might be a lot for you, so I won’t mind if you want to go home before we make our way all the way around.”

Louis chuckles. “Nah, I think I’ll be fine. Just let me know when and what to pack when the date gets closer.”

“Will do.”

“Hey, are you going to that thing that Niall’s having tonight?”

“Which thing?”

“The barbeque?”

“Fuck, I don’t think I can make it. I have rehearsals all the way through tonight and probably tomorrow morning. Sorry, babe.”

“Ah, it’s alright. Such is the life of an international superstar, innit.”

“Sorry, Lou.” Harry sounds genuinely remorseful.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you later, then?” Louis stops petting Haribo, who mews and bats at his hand.

“Yeah, see you.”

The dial tone sounds in Louis’ ear and he puts his phone down, bopping Haribo on the forehead. “Well, Boop, looks like I’m gonna have to get Niall or Ed over here to catsit you. I’m going on a tour with Harry.”

Haribo meows at Harry’s name. She _loves_ Harry. Harry gives her treats and holds her and pets her and she _loves_ Harry.

“Yes, Harry. _Harry Styles, international superstar Harry Styles._ The same one that you love.” Louis gives her one last stroke before he hops up to get himself some crisps. He should probably change for Niall’s barbeque, but he can’t be arsed to give up his crisps right now. Honestly, he could try to change and eat at the same time, but certain past _incidents_ would dictate that that’s a bad idea.

Haribo follows him to the kitchen and squeaks hopefully when he crinkles the crisp bag. He shakes his head _no_ at her, not even giving in when she makes the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen on a cat.

“No, Boop, crisps aren’t good for you. Harry would kill me if he found out I gave you any,” Louis explains.

Haribo meows long and sad and Louis relents, opening her food cabinet and fishing out the treats from the back.

“Okay, fine, but you’re gonna have to work for it.” Louis holds one treat in his hand at knee height, watching as Haribo crouches down, wiggling her tiny bum. She launches herself off the ground and lands neatly on his hand without extending her claws.

“Ay, Boopie, did Harry teach you to do that? Yeah? He did? No way!” Louis coos at Haribo as she eats her treat happily.

When she’s finished licking off his palm, Louis sees the clock and he’s got an hour before Niall’s thing, and it’s a half-hour to his house.

“Fuck, Boop, down. I need to shower and change, okay?” Boop jumps down and watches him curiously as he rushes off down the hall, skidding on his socks into his room to grab clothes.

>> 

When Louis pulls up to Niall’s place, he can hear voices and laughter in the back, so he lets himself through the house and into the yard. There’s a bunch of familiar faces that Louis vaguely registers before there’s a loud ball of sunshine jumping on his back.

“Ey, you made it, Lou!” Niall exclaims in his ear.

Louis laughs and shakes Niall off. “Yeah, I did. Harry couldn’t make it, though, so that’s kinda sad.”

“Oi, loverboy, c’mon, it doesn’t matter what Harry does or doesn’t. We get it- you’re arse over tits in love with him. Now come have a burger, Josh is cooking and you know how good his food is.”

“Okay but I’m not in love with Harry, and the only reason you like Josh’s cooking is because _you’re_ in love with Josh.” Louis snaps back.

Niall just grins toothily and wanders over to where Josh is flipping burgers and chatting with Liam and Ed and a few others. Louis sighs, wishing Harry was here so they could tease Niall together.

By the time the sun has long set and Louis is packed full of burger and Ed’s songs, most of the people have drifted back home for the night. Louis, Niall, Ed, Josh, and a couple others are the only ones left.

Louis yawns big as Josh makes to get out the Cards Against Humanity.

“’m really tired, Josh, so my answers are gonna be shite.”

Niall shrugs and pats Louis’ head gently. “It’s fine, Louis. That’s the whole point of the game, though, innit.”

Louis doesn’t remember playing or falling asleep, but he wakes up curled up on Niall’s couch. When he blinks bleary eyes open, he sees Niall and Josh cuddled together on the carpet, still dozing. He gropes around for his phone and snaps a picture for blackmail before groaning and dropping his head back on the couch cushion to sleep some more.

What feels like a minute but is actually more like an hour later, Louis’ phone rings, lighting up with Harry’s contact. Louis picks up, grinning at the way Niall stirs before sleepily flipping him off.

“’ey, Haz, what’s up?”

“Hiiii, Lou. I just wanted to remind you that you’re gonna have to come over to mine to sign some shit before we set out on tour- all of the NDAs and legally-binding whatevers. It’s basically like if something happens, you can’t go to the press, can’t say anything about me that could be potentially whatever, you know how it is.”

“Uh, yeah.” Louis really doesn’t know how it is but he’ll ask Niall. Niall’s smart. Niall’s great. He can cook and he’s funny and all. Louis thinks he’d date Niall if Niall wasn’t arse-over-tits for Josh. Niall’s probably a lawyer in his spare time. Niall doesn’t tell anyone what he does, but he somehow knows everything about everyone. Maybe he’s a psychologist. Maybe Louis’ half-asleep brain should stop thinking.

“-Louis?”

Louis shakes his head to clear it. “Huh? Sorry, I’m really tired.”

Harry chuckles. “I asked about Haribo. How is she?”

“She’s great! She’s still growing, and she’s _adorable_. Hey, you saw her literally two days ago, didn’t you? Why are you even asking?”

“Maybe I just like to hear you talk about something you love,” Harry drawls cheekily, and Louis feels something flutter in his heart. Now, he doesn’t _like like_ Harry, per se. He just- has a bit more affection for Harry than for all his other friends.

>> 

Time flies up to the tour. For Louis, it’s the ebb and flow of daily life. It’s the routine three-times-a-day _cabinetcreakbagcrinklecrinkleclatterkibbleclatterbagcrinklecabinetthunk_ of feeding Haribo. It’s the hanging out with Niall and Josh and the planning with Ed on how to get Niall and Josh together already. It’s the texting Harry 24/7 and laughing at the silly memes he sends him. It’s the blurry snaps of Harry’s Adventures in Wardrobe and Hair and Makeup ft. Perrie and Jade, goddesses of all things beauty, and Eleanor and Leigh-Anne, designers supreme.

For Harry, it’s the rush and _hurryupletsgocmon_ of endless, monotonous interviews and studio performances and recording and rehearsals and meeting fans and passing out at night. Thing is, it’s also the very few quiet nights he gets at home. It’s also the daily texts from Louis that are like mini breaths of fresh air in the glaring hot lights of the studios. It’s also the little giddy feeling he gets when his phone buzzes with a specific vibration pattern set just for Louis.

But in any and all cases, May 10th sneaks up on them faster than anyone expects. On May 1st, Louis’ called in with Harry to sign contracts and NDAs and other endless piles of paperwork, and times whips by and suddenly it’s the 8th and Louis’ frantically throwing most of his closet into a suitcase. He’s supposed to meet Harry at Harry’s flat by noon, and it’s already 11. He’s fed Haribo twice, and Niall’s going to come cat-sit for him over the tour.

(That conversation went something like this.

“Hey Niall, so Harry invited me on tour and I need someone to come cat-sit Haribo.”

“Uh, sure. D’you mind if invite some friends over while you’re gone?”

“As long as you don’t trash my flat or fuck Josh anywhere but the guest bed, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Also, I wouldn’t fuck Josh in the first place, let alone in your flat, mate.” Niall’s voice is fake-indignant.

“Oi, I see how it is,” Louis teases, “You’d be the one being fucked, innit? You’re that one friend that everyone thinks is a top but is acutally a secret bottom.”

“Excuse me, Lewis, that’s none of your business. Also, speak for yourself,” Niall fires back. He’s gotten pretty good at comebacks, Louis thinks.

“Well, it’d be the opposite for me. Everyone thinks I’d bottom, just cause I’ve got a great arse, but I really would rather top most of the time. Same way with Harry, everyone thinks he’s a top, but have you _seen_ how he acts when you pin him down?”

“Uh, no I haven’t. That’s a little too much info, Louis. We don’t need to know all the details of your and Harry’s sex life.”

“What do you mean _our sex life_? We aren’t even fucking or anything.”

Louis can practically _hear_ Niall’s eyes rolling. “Sure, and I’m not Irish.”

“Maybe you aren’t.” Technically, nobody knows anything about Niall, so he definitely could be like Scottish or some shit and he’s just putting on an accent.  “Anyways, just come cat-sit for me, thanks love. I’ll text you more details.”)

A mewl shakes Louis out of his thinking and he realizes that he’s wandered to the kitchen and now Haribo’s nowhere to be found.

“Shitshitshit…” Louis knows exactly where he’s going to find the curious kitten, and he’s going to get the hell scratched out of him _veeeeery_ soon. He rushes to his room, and sure enough, Haribo’s curled up in the clothes in his open suitcase, purring loud and smug. “Boop, I’m gonna need you to move now,” Louis sighs, knowing exactly where this is going. He’s going to have to forcibly (gently) pick up and move Haribo to his bed while she flails around with tiny pin-prick claws and tries to murder him.

Twenty minutes, two armfuls of scratches, and a bit of antiseptic gel later, Louis’ got Haribo snoozing on his pillow and two fat suitcases ready to go. He’s a ten-minute drive from Harry’s, so he’s cutting it right on time if he leaves _now_.

“Bye, Boop,” Louis whispers, stroking Haribo’s head gently. This is the first time he’s going to be leaving her alone for more than three days since he got her, so there’s obviously some reluctance on his part to actually just go.

When he finally gets himself to grab his bags and head out, he _may_ be a little misty-eyed (but just a little).

He makes good time to Harry’s, and he lets himself in when he gets there. He deposits his luggage in the foyer and starts looking for his friend.

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis calls up the stairs when he can’t find Harry in the living room, dining room, kitchen, or lounge.

“Hi Louis, I’m just grabbing some stuff, go get something to drink and then we’ll head out,” Harry’s voice echoes back at him.

Louis can only assume Harry’s packing, so he heads to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of Yorkshire, which Harry keeps stocked for him. By the time he’s done, Harry’s gotten downstairs and is fixing his headscarf.

“Ready? Car’s waiting for us.” Harry asks.

“Yeah, just lemme rinse this mug out and I’ll be ready to go.”

Louis doesn’t know this, but Harry watches Louis fondly as he rinses out his mug and hums something to himself.

“Alright, I’m ready,” Louis announces, turning and heading back to the foyer, where he opens the door and pulls his suitcases after him with a grunt.  Harry laughs at his struggle and hoists his own duffle bags onto his shoulder without much trouble. There’s a discreet silver minivan waiting out on the curb, which Harry pops open the trunk to and tosses his bags in the back. He wrestles Louis’ luggage into the trunk before slamming the door shut, dusting off his hands like he just did something strenuous.

(Louis will forever deny that he was watching the muscles in Harry’s back and arms work as he manhandled the luggage.)

The ride to the airport is filled with laughter, drawled stories, and questions from Louis. He asks Harry all sorts of things, from what the buses are like to what he’s going to do when Harry performs. The answers are _really quite cool_ and _you’ll watch like every other teenage girl, I suppose, except you’ll have access to everywhere and my dressing rooms and all that. The girls will keep you entertained._

Louis’ pretty excited.

>> 

When they reach the airport, instead of being dropped off at the international terminal, they’re taken directly to a private terminal just for celebrities. (After all, this is London Heathrow. They’ve got everything. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if the Queen had her very own terminal.)

The driver stops the car right next to a small plane with a set of stairs going into it. Harry gets out and bounds around to get Louis’ door for him before Louis can recover from his shock of seeing the private plane.

“Wow, Harry. That’s a fucking huge plane you got for yourself.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s great. It’s not all mine though- I share with my bodyguard and sometimes some of the security. I think today it’s just Paul and Andy today, though.”

“Paul?” Louis rakes his mind, trying to remember if Harry had ever mentioned a Paul.

“Paul’s my bodyguard. He’ll love you,” Harry clarifies in amusement.

“Oh. Will he though? I’m nothing like you or anything.”

“Nah, he’ll love you. He’s always up for a laugh, and he’s tired of all my jokes,” Harry pouts, “But he’s great. He’s got kids your age, so you’ll be good for him.”

Louis shrugs, going to grab his bags before he realizes that the driver has already loaded them onto the plane. “Harry, does everyone around here do everything?”

“Yeah, yeah, pretty much. You’ll get used to it. Now c’mon, the pilot wants to get on her way.”

Louis follows Harry like a lost puppy, still trying to adjust to this culture shock of sorts. The inside of the plane is even more lavish than Louis’ ever dreamed. It’s all black and white and grey and sleek and Louis doesn’t know how the fuck Harry can do this so fucking often. He asks Harry as such and receives a laugh in reply.

“Well, first of all, sit down. Jesy wants to get going ASAP or we’ll miss the buses.” Harry sits in one of the plush-looking leather seats and gestures to the one across from him.

Louis perches hesitantly on the edge, finding that _yeah, the seat is as squishy as it looks_. He relaxes a bit, settling in for the long flight to Japan- the first leg of the tour. Harry regales him with stories about the fans- about how he’s always surprised that people show up just to see him, how they make accounts on Tumblr and Twitter and Instagram dedicated to him, and everything else that comes with the International Popstar life. Louis finds it simultaneously fascinating and exhausting. He doesn’t have anything near that caliber to tell Harry about, so he settles for plotting about getting Niall and Josh together. Harry has some pretty good ideas- all of which require lots of social media involvement and onstage promotion. Louis outright refuses to go in front of thousands of girls and tell them to spam his friends with shipping tweets and posts, so Harry ditches that idea pretty fast.

The hours fly by (haha, Harry’s pun) in a blur of stories, laughter, meeting Paul, naps, singing badly for fun, and playing cards and Scrabble.

>> 

Louis’ dozing when they arrive in Japan. He feels the plane bounce a little when it lands, and stretches, yawning like Haribo. He blinks the blur from his eyes just in time to see Harry scrunch up his nose and turn away. Louis mentally frowns but stores it away to consider later.

“Louis, Harry, get ready. There’s going to be paps, so Louis, throw this sweatshirt on and pull the hood up. You’ll deplane with Andy- just keep your head down and shoulder your way through them. Act like you’re security, and they’ll leave you alone. Harry, you know the drill.” Paul tosses Louis a big grey sweatshirt and Louis pulls it on, wrinkling his nose at the strong scent of detergent. Harry shoots them both a grin and a thumbs-up.

“Okay, ready?” Andy gets ready to open the door. “Three, two, one.”

He pushes the door open and someone pushes the portable stairs to the door and locks them in. Louis can hear screams and shutter flashes, and _holy shit here we go_. He does as Paul said and keeps his head down, jostling people left and right and stepping on toes and blindly follows Andy, sensing Paul near his back. The paps quiet down momentarily, but the moment Harry steps out of the plane and pastes a smile on his face, the shouted questions and camera flashes return in twofold. Louis can somewhat hear Paul to his left, yelling at the crowd to make way. Andy clears a path to a waiting car and practically tosses Louis inside before sliding in and pulling Harry in after him. Paul joins them a moment later, slamming the door shut and greeting the driver, who, oddly enough, is Jesy.

“Hi Jesy. Do you do all the transportation for Harry?” Louis asks a little too loudly. His ears are still ringing from the paps.

“Ha, yeah, I do. It’s great- I get to fly planes, captain boats, drive buses, all the things I’ve been told I can’t because I’m a woman. Proving my parents wrong every bloody day, innit.” Jesy smirks at Louis in the rearview mirror while navigating them out of the airport like an expert.

Louis can only nod a little too late, mind spinning a million miles an hour, trying to process all of the new information, while Paul, Andy, and Harry seem undisturbed. Paul’s calling someone and talking about hotels and buses and signings and interviews and managing security and whatever the fuck else he’s in charge of.

The drive is short, and soon, Jesy is pulling up to what appears to be the back door of a hotel as Paul hangs up abruptly on whoever’s talking. There doesn’t look like there’re any paps around, so Andy gets out, pulls Louis after him, and hustles the lot of them inside before anyone catches wind of where they are. The moment the door slams shut behind them, Paul’s back on his phone, listening for room numbers and times and locations (or so Louis assumes). Harry seems completely unperturbed, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his Instagram. Since there’s nothing else for him to do, Louis looks around and takes in where they are. It’s some type of back staircase, all concrete. Paul’s voice, low as he asks about rooming arrangements, echoes slightly in the space, so Louis assumes the stairs must go up fairly high. He wonders how many levels this hotel has, and if they’re as fancy as he thinks.

Paul dropping his phone and cursing is what shakes Louis out of his reverie. Louis’ sure that the phone screen is going to be shattered- at the very least cracked, but Paul simply grabs it and blows it off before slipping it in his pocket. He doesn’t appear concerned, at least about that. It’s probably covered by the lone fact that he’s security for Harry Styles, International Superstar.

“So, apparently there’s been a little mistake with the front desk, and they booked us one less single than we need, and the whole place is booked for some movie premiere later this week. Either someone’s going to have to share, or we’ll have to get the buses here a night early and I’ll sleep there for the night.”

Louis’ mouth opens before he can stop it. “I’ll share with Harry.”

Harry looks at him, a funny look on his face.

“I mean, if he’s cool with it. We’ve shared beds before, it’s not a big deal.” Louis trails off as Paul looks to Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll be fine,” Harry nods quickly.

“That’s great, so let’s head up. We’ll use the stairs so tonight will be a little calmer. Tomorrow, we’re out the front door for the paps and the official start of the tour.”

>> 

By the time Louis’ up the thirty flights of stairs (they’re on the fifth-fucking-teenth floor and Paul hasn’t gotten a service-lift key for them yet), he’s breathing hard and his shirt is almost soaked through. Harry is only a little better off, while Paul and Andy look like they’ve just been on a Sunday stroll. Paul has somehow magically produced a pair of keycards and hands them to Louis and Harry.

“You two are in 1501, which is way down in the corner that way. Your bags will be there, and feel free to order food or whatever. The rest of us will be in 1502, 1503, and 1504 if you need anything. Have a good night, boys. I’ll see you in the morning.” Paul tosses Andy his own key card and the two of them leave Harry and Louis standing in the quiet hallway. Louis can hear the sound of a TV turn on in Paul’s room, as well as the low murmurs from some of the other rooms.

“Well. Let’s go, then?” Harry tilts his head in the direction of the room.

Louis nods, admiring the way the plush carpet muffles their footsteps as they walk the hallway to their room. When the door unlocks, Louis is hit with the usual crisp-hotel-sheet smell and something a little sweeter, like some type of expensive air freshener. Harry flicks on the light, and Louis is left speechless for the thousandth time.

The room is amazing. It’s approximately the size of Louis’ dining room, kitchen, and living room combined. There’s a huge, plush, king-sized bed in the middle of the room, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Their bags are sitting neatly by the bathroom door. When Louis peeks in, he’s greeted with a bathroom the size of his fucking bedroom. In true Japanese fashion, the toilet and the shower are decorated with lots of buttons, all of which Louis resolves to push before they have to leave tomorrow morning.

Like always, Harry looks unmoved, just setting out an outfit for tomorrow and unpacking basic hygiene items. At this point, Louis can’t help but break his promise to himself not to ask Harry about his life.

“Harry,” Louis starts, flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, “How the actual fuck.”

“How the actual fuck what,” Harry asks, bemused. “If you’re asking about why I’m not amazed by everything, it’s just kind of become a blur, I guess. It becomes normal to have everything all fancied-up for you.”

Louis just gapes at him before sighing and closing his eyes. He’s too tired for this. He keeps his eyes closed as he listens to Harry brush his teeth and use the toilet.

“Lou, I’m taking the side that you’re hogging right now, and you need to get ready for bed, so move your fat arse.”

Louis sighs again before pushing himself upright and stumbling into the bathroom. He decides that he doesn’t have the time or the energy to press buttons tonight, so he just takes a wee and washes his hands before going to brush his teeth only to realize that he’s left all of his stuff in his bag still. He’s greeted with a frankly fantastic view of Harry’s dick flopping around as he tries to hop out of his skinny jeans.

“Jesus Christ, Harry. Give a man a warning, why don’t you.” Louis groans, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes. Obviously, it’s not anything he hasn’t seen before courtesy of drunken nights of sharing beds in the nude and just Harry being Harry in general, but he really doesn’t need a boner now. “Also, no pants? You cheeky little minx.”

Harry laughs. “I wasn’t about to constrict my junk for the entire flight, Lewis. My balls need air too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now put your dick away and let me get my toothbrush and toothpaste without being further scarred.”

Harry obliges, wiggling into tight black briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. Louis hopes his semi isn’t visible as he pads over to grab his hygiene bag. If it is, Harry doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment, thank god.

When Louis finishes his nightly routine, he finds himself missing Haribo pretty keenly. He says so to Harry, who hums in sympathy as Louis crawls in under the covers. They’re lying with a fair distance between them, which Louis both blesses and curses. Harry flicks the lamp off and settles back into his pillow.

“When do we need to be up tomorrow?” Louis whispers. He doesn’t know why he’s whispering, but it doesn’t feel right to talk out loud.

“Probably around seven, if you want to shower and grab breakfast before we head out at nine,” Harry whispers back.

Louis turns on his side so he’s facing Harry. “Wake me up, please, love.”

Harry turns too, and smiles. “’Course. Goodnight, Lou.”

“G’night.”

>> 

When Louis wakes up, he’s acutely aware that he’s moved in the middle of the night, and now, he’s got a faceful of curls and a warm Harry in his arms. _And then_ he realizes his morning wood is pressed against Harry’s bum. With a quiet groan, he tries to pull away without waking Harry up. It proves to be an exercise in futility when Harry’s phone buzzes with an alarm, making Harry stir in Louis’ arms. He stretches, arching his back and accidentally pressing his arse back against Louis’ crotch. He freezes when he feels Louis’ dick. Louis sighs into his ear and rolls over, pulling his arms back. Harry bites off a whine.

“So. I’m just… gonna go shower and take care of this,” Louis stares resolutely at the ceiling as he talks, voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah… Go do that.”

Louis stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, squinting as he turns the lights on. He slides his pants off, choking off a whimper when the cotton brushes over his erection. The shower is a mess to figure out. The power button is easy enough, and the temperature is just a little dial with digital Japanese numbers that Louis fiddles with, but the rest of the buttons could be connected to anything from the wall jets to one of the three showerheads to the water pressure. Louis leaves them be for now and focuses on the problem at hand- his uncooperative dick. It hasn’t flagged much in the five minutes between the bed and the shower, so Louis wraps a hand around himself, propping his other hand on the tiled wall behind him.

He only gets a few strokes in before his supporting hand’s pinky accidentally slips and hits the control panel of the shower.

It turns out that being hit in the face ad blinded with a jet of ice-cold water is not conducive to a good wank. Louis screeches and his cock practically softens instantly. He flails around with his hands, trying to turn the jet off and only succeeding in switching between the showerheads and making the water pressure drop to zero.

In the back of his mind, Louis can vaguely make out Harry calling something through the door, but he doesn’t know what so he just doesn’t reply. He scrubs at his watery eyes (not that you could tell) and screams again, plastering himself against the cold tiles when he sees Harry in the bathroom. As a second thought, he cups his hands over his bits, even though there’s literally nothing Harry hasn’t seen before.

“What the fuck, Harry!”

“I asked if I could come in and you didn’t reply, so I got worried,” Harry explains, hand hovering awkwardly over the shower panel, “Do you want me to turn this off?”

“Um, no. Just… make it hotter and make the water stronger, please.”

Harry nods and pushes a few of the buttons. Louis relaxes as the water warms up and gets stronger.

“Thanks, babe,” Louis murmurs as Harry turns to leave. A thought occurs to him. “Wait, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know how to read fucking Japanese?”

“Um,” Harry does a little half-laugh, “Kind of? I’ve picked up bits and pieces from the other tours.”

“Damn, Harry, back at again with the languages,” Louis huffs, bending over to pick up his soap.

“Heeey. You little meme shit. I’m gonna go change, bye.”

>> 

After the whole shower thing, they go down to breakfast, where Paul catches them to tell them about the plan for the day. Apparently, Harry’s got an interview this afternoon, and then a performance tonight, which will be one of three in Japan. Louis knew Harry was an International Superstar, but not Such A Big International Superstar.

Louis gets to sit behind the cameras for Harry’s interview, and the interviewer makes him cringe. “So what do you look for in a guy, Harry” and “Would you date a _girl_ , Harry” and “What do you do in your spare time” all get really tiring after a while.

(If Louis makes a few faces and makes Harry laugh, no one has to know.)

The show that night is the first show of the tour, and Louis’ amazed at the fucking size of the place. It’s one thing sitting in a footie game at a stadium. It’s a whole different thing standing on this fucking huge stage and staring out at the thousands of empty seats that will soon be filled by thousands of fans.

Harry introduces him to several people before he has to go to Wardrobe and Makeup, and Louis tries to remember their names even though he knows he won’t be able to. He and the backstage girls get along from the word go, and they show him around the whole arena while Harry does a final rehearsal and soundcheck. Apparently, there are all these passages and greenrooms and things Louis never considered built right into each arena that they perform at. He has a newfound respect for the techs and interns and messengers running around every which way frantically preparing for their first gig of the season.

The actual concert itself is high-energy and fun and Louis watches from backstage as Harry dances and sings and generally is Harry onstage. He finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet as the more upbeat songs blare into the arena, a smile blooming on his face.

(Here, he can watch Harry be suggestive to the point of obscenity and not worry about being caught.)

When Harry gets offstage, Paul appears instantly and herds the two of them out the back of the arena to a waiting car. Jesy greets them cheerily before stomping on the gas and pulling out of the alley before anyone can find them. On the way back, Paul debriefs the next couple of days for them.

“So, great show tonight, Harry. Solid start to the tour. Tomorrow, you’ve got two interviews- one normal questions and promo to be aired next week, and then one that’s going to be live-broadcasted, so Louis, you’re not going to be able to sit behind the camera for that one, sorry. There’s one more performance at the same arena tomorrow night. The day after, you’ve got a signing- three or four hours, tops. Louis, the girls will keep you entertained then. The last show in Japan will be at a different location, got it?”

Harry nods. Louis cringes at the schedule before he nods too.

Jesy pulls up to the back door of the hotel and they get out and head up, this time via a service elevator.

Harry and Louis get ready for bed in a comfortable silence sporadically interspersed with little bits of conversation and quiet laughter about things they saw or thought about this evening. Harry goes to take a shower, and Louis uses the time to have a quick, quiet wank. He’s just finished and cleaned up when he hears a muffled moan come from the bathroom. Apparently, Harry’s using his shower time for the same thing. It doesn’t bother Louis much- they’re both young men with strong sex drives, and they need to relieve themselves somehow. The only thing is that hearing Harry’s whimpers does _something_ to Louis. He thinks if he hadn’t just come, he’d be hard, which, okay, and _he shouldn’t like Harry this way._

When Harry comes out of the bathroom and slips into bed, Louis pretends to be asleep, ignoring Harry’s goodnight and the way his hand hovers for a moment over the light switch before he flips it in defeat.

>> 

The next morning is much the same. Louis wakes up spooned tightly against Harry’s back and he pulls himself off in the shower without much incident except a pair of green eyes, curls, and pink lips in the front of his mind.

The interviews go by quickly, and pretty soon, Louis’ backstage again, watching Harry perform and sing his heart out. The show still carries the same bouncy, fun energy it did last night. Harry gets off stage and the whole shebang of car, debrief, hotel, shower, and bed is repeated.

And so the shows continue. Louis slowly becomes desensitized to all of the hustle and bustle, the planes and the hotels and fans and the screaming and the new things become familiar. His _thing_ about Harry keeps growing, though, until he’s outright pining. He’s actually amazed that Harry hasn’t picked up on it, considering that he takes every opportunity to stare and touch and generally fond over him.

As for the shows, Louis’ actually gotten to the point where he’s kind of bored with them. He’ll spend the time calling his sisters or staying up to date on Harry’s fandom. He’s made a Tumblr under whytheunnecessaryhet (he’s very pleased with himself about that url) and he’s already got about a hundred followers. It turns out that the fandom is very aware of his existence. With some asks on anon and a little scrolling the fuck down, there’s a fuckton of speculation about him. There’s a section of the fans that refuse to believe that he’s new security ( _have you ever seen security that’s that tiny are you kidding me he’s not security)_ , and this is the slice of the fandom that Louis is drawn to. Some of the more over-the-top fans believe that he’s Harry’s secret boyfriend, and these people are some of his favorites.  He loves the way they zoom way in on the blurry backstage concert pictures to say “look here’s this guy watching his boyfriend oh my god relationship goals holy shit.”

In any case, Tumblr can only keep him occupied for so long, so some concerts, he has one of the other security, usually a guy by the name of Liam Payne, take him to a club so he can go have fun. Only, he can’t take anyone back to the hotel because he and Harry usually share a single, and it wouldn’t be fair to anyone.

One night somewhere in the middle of somewhere (Louis thinks they’re in America, but he’s not sure), Louis’ bored out of his fucking mind. His dash is dead as fuck, and it will be until after the show tonight, seeing as Harry has no new interviews or appearances until tomorrow. He doesn’t feel like clubbing, and as he complains to Harry, Harry brightens with an idea.

“You know what, Lou?”

“What.” Louis is sprawled on the bed, watching Harry trying to hop into skinny jeans.

“You should sing with me tonight.”

“What.”

“You should perform with me tonight. Like. On stage?”

“What.”

“Like. Louis. LouisLouisLouisLouis,” Harry sighs, “Like. Get the girls to dress you up and slap some makeup on.”

“What.” Louis thinks he’s in some type of shock. This is Harry Styles, International Superstar, and he’s asking _Louis_ to perform with him. “How.”

“I mean, you know all the words and the melodies and some of the harmonies. You’re bored anyways, and the fandom’s been buzzing about you for weeks. Might as well do something that’s not clubbing or watching me from backstage for the millionth time. It’ll be fun, c’mon!”

“Alright, I guess, but isn’t there some type of protocol with contracts and shit?” Louis can only guess how wild Tumblr’s going to be after _this_ surprise. They’re going to break the internet. Yay.

“Fuck that, I want to bring my best friend onstage and no one’s gonna stop me,” Harry grins toothily.

When they get to the arena, suddenly it hits Louis.

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Harry glances over, concerned.

“Fuck. Harry. I’m going to perform.”

“…yeah.”

“FUCK. Harry, do you know how many people are going to be there? _Holy shit_. _Ho-ly sh-it._ ”

“You… don’t have to perform if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just. _Holy shitballs. What the fuck even is my life._ ”

Harry hums in bemused agreement and gets out of the car. Louis follows like a confused puppy, and they head inside.

It turns out that the girls are more than happy to help.

“I’ve been planning your makeup for weeks,” Jade confesses as she gestures for him to close his eyes. She brushes something on his eyelids.

“Is that eyeshadow?” Louis thinks it is, and he doesn’t really know if he’s going to like it.

“Yeah. Rose gold. You can open your eyes, lemme contour you before Perrie does your hair.”

Louis opens his eyes, and he can’t deny that he loves the way the eyeshadow catches the light just so and, obviously, because it’s shimmery. It’s a very light coat of it, so it won’t be too obvious, but he knows the fans will see it.

“Damn, Jade, I look good.”

“You know it. Alright. If I were doing you up for a gala or something, I would give you probably a touch of blush, maybe bronzer, even though you don’t need it as much as Harry’s pale arse, and maybe a really light lip colour, but because that shit’s expensive, and you’re going to wash it all off tonight anyways, I’m gonna turn you over to Pezza now. Have fun, love, I’ll see you later.”

Louis moves one room over to Perrie, and she groans at the state of his hair.

“Okay, but when did you last get your hair done properly? It’s a mess.”

“Um. Sorry?” Louis doesn’t actually have much else to say.

Perrie sighs and gets to work with skilled hands. When she’s done, Louis has some type of swirly thing on his head. Perrie claps her hands.

“There. If I had more warning, I’d have gotten a stronger gel, because Harry likes his hair softer, so I don’t usually have it. Your hair needs it, though, but this will do.”

Louis pokes at it gently. “What is it?”

“Um, I don’t really know, but let’s call it a cinnamon roll quiff.”

“Alrighty. Thanks, love. Where to next?”

“Well, El and Leigh are gonna try to find something that fits you from Harry’s wardrobe. He’s all long, lankiness, and you’re more curves and sass, so that will take a little work. They’re through here, though.”

Eleanor and Leigh-Anne do have an outfit picked out for him. It’s a thin grey jumper that _he can make sweater paws with, fuck yeah_ , and a pair of white skinnies that cling to his bum and make him look, according to Harry, “One hundred times sexier than any man has any right to be.”

They do a sound check, and Louis gets his own mic with a blue band. It matches his eyes, he realizes, the way Harry’s green mic matches his. Fuck. Fuck the shippers.

In any case, he thinks he actually sounds okay, considering that he only usually sings in the shower, and the last time he did a big production was in school. Harry definitely thinks he’s great, if the huge beams he’s sending Louis’ way are any indication.

>> 

Before Louis can even comprehend it, they’re backstage and ready to go on. The plan is that Harry will go on first, like normal, do the opening song, and then Louis will come on.

“Alright, boys, you’re on in two minutes. Have fun,” Paul claps them both on the back before disappearing back into the shadows to do whatever he does during the concert.

It’s not long before Harry runs onstage to do his first song- Steal My Girl. Louis sings along under his breath and waits anxiously. He knows fans can be vicious as fuck, and they could very well hate him.

Before he can worry himself out of performing, the song ends and Harry’s speaking.

“Hello Boston!” A round of screams. “Today, there’s something special for you.” More screams and Louis braces himself. “I’ve brought a friend along tonight to sing with me. He was bored, so why not. Everyone, please welcome my best friend Louis!”

Louis runs out.

The first thing that hits him is all the lights pointed at the stage, and how they’re hot as fuck and he feels sweaty already. The second thing that hits him is the sheer amount of _screams_ that this stadium is producing.

“Hi, everyone,” Louis says into the mic, cringing as he hears his voice amplified and echoed back to him. There are screams of _Hi!_ in response. “I’m Louis. I’m Harry’s friend, and I’ve known him since we were… since I was eighteen and he was sixteen.” He realizes belatedly that he just referenced 18, but he figures it’ll be alright. “I’m twenty-five now. So. Yeah.”

Louis notices that Harry’s watching him, nose scrunching again.

“Harry, you’re staring. Don’t just ignore your fans, now,” Louis teases. He’s starting to be able to tune out more of the people, and he’s relaxing.

“Okay, so let’s keep this concert moving, shall we?” Harry gestures for the band to start the intro to Midnight Memories.

Louis channels all of his nervous energy into his singing, and he thinks he and Harry sound pretty good, but _the fans_. The fans are the ones that are making up the body of the music, the thousands of voices blending into one melody, one song. There’s this incredible energy that’s Louis can feel thrumming in his veins and shaking his bones and it’s absolutely mindblowing. He knows everyone else can feel it too, and he realizes why Harry loves this so much- the performing, the fans, the music, all of it. This feeling is addictive. It leaves him wanting moremoremore, and he can give in to that need. He can let himself go and run down the catwalk and wave to people and watch them scream and he can dance and sing without limits and not worry about slipping onto his arse in the shower or about his neighbors complaining.

The concert flies by faster than he wanted it to. Louis would’ve stayed up there forever, practically screaming into his mic and smiling like he hasn’t in years, but the concert ends and he and Harry are hustled into the tourbus. They take turns with the shower, and as adrenaline wears off, they end up in the back room, where they’ve been sharing the big bed since they got the bus. Technically, they do have bunks, but ever since that first night, it’s just become a _thing_. Not a thing _thing_ like Louis’ thing about Harry, but it’s a thing. Yeah. That made even less sense in Louis’ mind.

“You did great, Lou. They loved you,” Harry says as they slide under the covers.

“You think so? Hopefully I didn’t disappoint.”

“No. They loved you. Hopefully the news won’t make too big of a deal about it. Fair warning, though, there’s going to be rumors that we’re secretly boyfriends, friends-with-benefits, engaged, all of that shit.”

“It’s fine,” Louis laughs to himself, just imagining the fandom’s reaction. He’s too tired to check Tumblr tonight, but he’ll do it tomorrow morning when they’re on their way to Canada.

>> 

The next morning, Louis’ phone is glitching the fuck out when he picks it up to check the time. It’s been buzzing nonstop with Twitter notifications and new messages and missed calls. It takes him nine tries to unlock his phone because it’s trying to process way too much all at once, but he manages to get into his Settings to turn off all notifications for everything until he can deal with it later. He flops back onto the bed, jostling Harry awake.

“Sorry, Haz.”

Harry groans into the pillow. “Why’re you up so early.”

“My phone is exploding.” Louis dangles the poor overheated phone in front of Harry’s face so he can see all the little red bubbles on his homepage. Harry squints at it, dropping his head back on the pillow in defeat.

“Yeah. I forgot to warn you about that. You’re gonna need to start being super specific with what notifications you get for what, or else your phone will overload and die. Speaking from experience here.”

Louis sighs. They’re going one more day on the bus before their first Canada performance. Apparently they’re going somewhere to the western side of Canada, not straight up to Montreal (literally the only place Louis knows of in Canada (sorry Canadians)). They’re only going to stop at a couple low-profile places for lunch and dinner, and that’s going to be it. Louis decides to check the news and get it over with.

_HARRY STYLES’ NEW BAND?_

_EXCLUSIVE: SECRET AFFAIR FOR STYLES_

_OMG! Harry Styles and SMOKIN’ HOT Bestie!_

_Get This: Harry Styles has a BFF, and he’s DAMN HOT._

Louis gapes at the news headlines on his phone as he scrolls down, seeing pictures of Harry and his own face from last night. Harry watches him and chuckles.

“This is fame, Lou. Everyone making up shit about you. ‘Secret Affair’ my fucking arse. Are we ‘desperately in love’? Did I miss you ‘so much that he _HAD_ to bring his lover on tour’?”

“No? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve brought condoms.” Louis rolls his eyes. God knows what the state of Tumblr’s going to be. Larry Stylinson rumors would be through the fucking roof.

Harry shrugs and rolls out of bed, shimmying into a red t-shirt that stretches tight across his chest. Louis vaguely remembers packing that shirt just because it was loose on him and showed off his collarbones and he figured it’d be good for clubbing. Fuck Harry and his broad shoulders. Fuck Harry and his clothes-stealing. Fuck Harry. Fuck Harry right in his goddamn perky little arse.

(wait)

(no)

(not that way @louis’ brain)

(fuck.)

>> 

When Louis checks Tumblr later that morning, his dash is still riled up about him from last night. There are pictures and new fic (he hasn’t ventured into _that_ pit yet) and headcanons flying around. He’s got a couple of new messages in his inbox, which is probably because he’s only at 300 followers (!!) right now. Even though his follower count spiked from last night, that’s nowhere near enough to have all of the messages that he sees the bigger blogs dealing with.

_Anonymous said: hey L what r ur thoughts on Harry’s “friend” from last night?_

_Anonymous said: L!!!!!! HARRYS FRIEND IS SO CUTEEEEE OMGGGGGG_

_Anonymous said: hi fren here’s your daily reminder that you’re amazing and ily!! –A_

The last anon was Louis’ favorite. “A” was an anon that came to his inbox every single morning and left a little inspirational quote or just a happy little message like the one today. He replies to them saying _thank you A and ily too!_

The others he replies to in the thread of _idk what to think of this guy yet… we haven’t seen any of him besides last night so idk haha.(also yeah, he’s damn cute)_

He closes the app when Harry walks back in bearing fruit and bagels for breakfast.

“Hey, babe, did you get the cream cheese too?” Louis greets him and takes the bag of bagels from him.

“Yeah, ‘course. There _is_ chocolate chip in there; they’re just at the bottom of the bag.”

“Aw, thanks, you know me so well,” Louis can’t help but let himself fond for a minute and a little voice in the back of his head screams about how domestic this is. He shuts it up with a smack to his forehead.

“You okay?” Harry raises a concerned eyebrow as he picks up a plastic fork to eat his fruit with.

“Huh? Yeah, no, I’m fine. No worries,” Louis attempts a smile.

Harry doesn’t buy it. “No, seriously, what’s up?”

“I… just have a little headache. It happens sometimes, like, after lots of noise? Like last night?”

Harry still doesn’t look convinced, but he plays along with Louis. “I have ibuprofen in the bathroom if you need it? You know what, I’ll go get some. Stay right here.”

Louis takes a breath of relief when he realizes that he now has a chance to take a breath and rearrange his brain so that he’s not caught up in the whirling madness of conspiracies and theories that is the Tumblr fandom. Unfortunately, Lottie and Fizzy decide to both send him the same link within two minutes of each other, no context provided. It’s from some sketchy teen news site, and when he opens it, it pops up bright pink on his screen. He cringes internally before scrolling down to read it. It’s an article talking about him, and not just the _who is he_ type. It’s delving into deeper topics, such as how he and Harry met, if they’re lovers, if he’s gay, and if he tops or bottoms.

Louis snorts. He thinks it ought to be fairly obvious that he’s not straight. To be honest, he doesn’t really have a label for his sexuality. He’s never really been extremely attracted to women, but he has had some serious relationships with a few, namely that one girl, Eleanor, during his huge sexuality “I might like guys too oh shit” crisis. They’d dated for close to four years, and she was super supportive. They’d parted ways amicably once they started making plans for the future- she wanted to go to uni for fashion and material science, and he’d wanted to go straight into teaching drama and coaching footie on the side.

Considering that school was going to start in a month or so, Louis would have to leave Harry (insert sadface emoji) and get the theatre program up and running again, unless he could find a temporary substitute.

Louis briefly wonders if he could get Niall to take at least the first couple of weeks, then ditches the idea because, really, he should be there.

Harry returns with the ibuprofen, and again Louis is struck by how fucking lucky Harry’s future boyfriend/fiancé/husband is going to be. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he throws back the pills dry. He doesn’t really know why he doesn’t like the thought of Harry with someone else (yeah, of course he knows), but whenever he tries to picture Harry walking down the aisle to someone, that someone always morphs into himself. He blames it on Tumblr’s overactive imagination. He counted at least ten amazing edits/manips already making their rounds on his dash, various domestic scenes and some not-so safe for work scenes, mostly courtesy of Harry’s Twitter questions section. There’s been an influx of Larry Stylinson fanart, and everyone seems to ship it now.

Fuck Tumblr.

>> 

Louis and Harry get a chance to get off the bus and stretch their legs when they stop to refuel. Louis heads into the gas station mini-mart and buys himself some beef jerky and a couple of ice lollies to share with Harry. He also gets a bottle of iced tea- the nasty over-sugared type because why the fuck not. As a second thought, he grabs a can of Red Bull for no particular reason except that he wants to.

He spies Harry coming out of the bathroom out of the corner of his eye as he waits for the cashier girl, who actually looks vaguely familiar, to ring up his purchases. Harry comes over and grins at Louis, a shadow of a dimple appearing.

“Hey Lou.”

Louis has to get on tippy-toes to pat the top of Harry’s head affectionately, warmth curling in his chest as Harry relaxes into the touch. The girl is watching them, a smug smile on her face. Suddenly Louis places where he’s seen her before.

“I knew it, you two. Fucking knew it,” she murmurs.

Harry startles a little, suddenly remembering that they’re not alone. “Knew _what?”_

“Nothing,” she grins innocuously.

Louis is pretty sure this is who he thinks it is. “Is your name Ashley?”

The girl looks at him in surprise. “Yeah, actually, it is! How’d you know?”

“You’re smollestlarrie on Tumblr.” She’s one of Louis’ favorite blogs, mainly because she’s fairly chill about shipping him and Harry, not like one of the ones who insist that they’re together and that if they aren’t, they’re idiots. Louis isn’t an idiot and he and Harry aren’t together, because Harry probably doesn’t even like him.

Ashley’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. How’d you know?”

“I have my ways,” Louis smirks before dragging a confused Harry behind him out the door and back to the bus.

“Louis, what the fuck was that?” Harry turns on him the moment the bus door shuts. He doesn’t sound very happy at all. Louis busies himself with putting his purchases away.

“What the fuck was what?”

“Do you have a Tumblr that I don’t know about?” Harry snaps.

“It’s my fucking life, Harry, I can have a Tumblr if I want one,” Louis straightens and faces Harry. “Also, _yes_ , I do have a blog. About you. I’m keeping track on your fandom, Harry. _Someone_ needs to. You’re not my fucking mom, or even- even my _boyfriend_. God knows I’ve waited long enough,” Louis blurts, hands coming to clap over his mouth when he realizes what he’s said. He shoulders past Harry without waiting for his response. He’s gone and fucked it up now. It’s obvious that Harry doesn’t like him that way, and now he has to start booking a flight from the nearest airport back home to get his theatre program started again. He was planning to stay with Harry as long as he could, but now that he’s fucked everything up, he needs to get out of here.

He keeps waiting for Harry to knock on the door of the back bedroom where he’s locked himself, but it hurts more when he doesn’t.

Louis only emerges from the room when he’s starving, and he ignores Harry’s attempt to start a conversation. Nothing good could come out of one right now. He grabs the beef jerky and an ice lolly and marches back to the room.

That night, they sleep apart, Louis in the big bed curled around Harry’s pillow, and Harry in one of the bunks. It takes both of them a surprising amount of staring sleeplessly into the dark before either falls asleep.

(Obviously it wouldn’t be important that Harry and Louis fell asleep within five minutes of each other. Obviously. O b v i o u s l y .)

>> 

The next day sees Louis and Harry both waking up within minutes of each other. Again. Louis opens the door hesitantly and relaxes when he sees Harry’s arm stretching out of the curtain that closes off his bunk.

“Mornin’, Harry,” Louis calls. He hears Harry groan in response and the curtain slides back. Harry pokes his head out, hair a nest on his head and eyes squinted at the light.

“Morning, Lou,” Harry mumbles through a yawn. He rolls out of the bunk with a thump, sprawling flat on his back in the aisle.

Louis can’t hold back a giggle at that. He whips out his phone and snaps a picture of International Superstar Harry Styles making his acquaintance with Paul’s shoes. Louis can hear Paul rustling around in the bathroom, explaining his lack of reaction to Harry being a lil dork.

“Harry, the floor is probably dirty. You might want to get up,” Louis uses the voice that usually works on his little sisters.

True to form, Harry rolls over onto his stomach and pouts at Louis. “But it’s _comfortable_.”

“Fine, but don’t come crying when you get sick,” Louis flounces off in fake-annoyance and Harry’s laugh echoes behind him. Louis’ heart twists in his chest as he remembers last night. Surely Harry hates him now. All of the good mood in Louis evaporates when he thinks of leaving Harry, and it shouldn’t fucking be this way.

Harry has interviews all through today at various studios throughout the area, so Louis is left to wander in the little towns they stop in. He’s not too worried about being recognized, so he tells Paul that he’ll be fine without security. With a promise of meeting them back at the radio station by three and to keep his phone on at all times, Louis sets off. He knows a little bit of French- enough to go to a little café on the corner of what appears to be their main street and order himself a tea and a sandwich for an early lunch. The waitress smiles brightly at him even when he stumbles over his words and promises to get his food out quickly. He snaps Harry a picture of the café as he waits and Harry replies with a ‘:c wish i was there… we should go again tomorrow- i’ve got a few hours tomorrow before the show.’ Louis smiles dopily at his phone. A text comes through- a picture of Harry pouting with Eleanor and Leigh-Anne laughing in the background. Louis saves the photo to his camera roll and locks it as the waitress comes back out with his order, smile still bright on her face.

Louis thanks her and wonders why Harry hadn’t snapped the picture to him instead of texting it like he did.

(When it dawns on him that it’s probably because Harry knew he would want to save it, he almost spits out his tea.)

He finishes up his lunch and leaves a generous tip in the tip jar at the counter, bidding the waitress goodbye. He wanders the streets for the next hour, trying to decide where to go. A little antiques shop catches his eye, and he goes in, a bell ringing above his head when he opens the door. An older lady greets him in lilting French, her eyes crinkling as he responds with his own not-quite-as-pretty greeting. They make small talk for a while until Louis runs out of vocabulary. He confesses this to the lady and she laughs, high and tinkling.

“It is okay. I can speak a little English. So what brings you here to my little shop?” Her English, though heavily accented, is clean and somehow she makes it sound beautiful the way her French sounds.

“I’m travelling with a tour, sort of, and I was wandering around,” Louis doesn’t really know how much he’s allowed to say, but the twinkle in her eyes tells him that she knows much more than she lets on.

“Ah, I see. With that young singer, Styles, was it? My daughter is taking her daughter to his show tomorrow night. They both love him.”

Louis smiles, blush staining his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’m travelling with Harry. He’s fantastic.”

The lady smirks, and she looks more threatening than she should. “Do not worry, Louis,” her tongue curls softly around his name and Louis has no idea how she knows his name, but it sounds so pretty coming off her lips, “I will not tell my daughter about you and Harry.”

“Wait. What about me and Harry?”

“That you are together, no?” She looks at him expectantly.

Louis’ eyes widen. Is he that obvious? Can the whole world tell that he’s in love with Harry? “We-We’re not together…?”

She’s undeterred, smile affectionate and all-knowing. “Ah, but you are. You, young one, are in denial, just the way Harry is trying not to see the way you look at him. He likes you very much. You cannot see that?”

“I- I don’t know. We’re best friends, but I don’t think he would like me like that.” Louis’ world is being turned upside down and he’s trying to cling on for dear life. Surely this old woman and a bunch of teenage girls don’t know how to read Harry and him better than he can? Who is he kidding? Louis has no idea what the fuck to think.

“But he does. _You_ ,” she points a finger at Louis, “need to talk to him before he finds himself somebody else.”

Louis nods, because it’s the only motion his brain can process right now. The lady nods and smirks and disappears into the back of the store without another word.

Louis has no idea what the fuck just happened and his brain is going faster than a million miles an hour (ha. Lyrics. Very funny.) and he walks straight out of the store and back to the café and he orders another tea and when the waitress brings it back to him, she looks at him funny, probably because he looks like he was just hit by some type of bomb.

(Really, it was a bomb. It was like. A realization bomb.)

Louis checks the time mechanically and he still has an hour and a half to kill before he has to be back at the bus.

He decides to go on Tumblr.

There’s huge speculation about if he’s going to be on the next show, and apparently, Harry’s doing a live radio interview right now, so his dash is a mix of theories, Larry content, and Harry appreciation. The little bubble on his inbox pops up with a (1), and Louis clicks on it. It’s from A, who has written him a long ask this time. Apparently, A is Ashley, seeing how she screams about seeing Harry and him at her job yesterday. She still ends with “I think you’re amazing and I hope you have the bestest day.” Because Louis doesn’t really want to start drama, he makes a text post instead of replying to her directly.

_A, thank you!! Love you and great story! Just don’t want to start drama, so I’m not gonna post the ask, but that’s fantastic! Just goes to show that Larry is real, innit? ;D_

And somehow, typing it out, Louis can’t help but start thinking that, _fuck_ , he’s literally in love with Harry. How is this okay. _This is not okay._

And then as he posts it, another ask pops up. It’s from one of those ‘send me a number’ things that Louis had reblogged a while back. This time, the ask is off anon and it’s from Ashley, again. Unfortunately, Louis didn’t really think things through when he reblogged the post, and she’s sent him several quite revealing questions.

_smollestlarrie said: 3, 7, 28, 30, 69 :P_

It’s _how old are you, what’s your full first name, do you know anyone famous, what’s your favorite Harry Styles album_ and _if you could have sex with a celebrity, who would it be_. Well. If Louis answers truthfully, he’s pretty much revealing himself as Louis Tomlinson, BFF of Harry Styles, International Superstar.

 _Hey there so basically:_  
3: how old are you- I’m like within 20-35 (I’m old af)  
7: full first name- not comfy revealing that, sorry, but my first name starts with L and my last name has an O in it.  
28: do you know anyone famous- I might and I might not ;)  
30: fave Harry Styles album- No Control fuck yeah  
69: sex w a celebrity- damn ummmm, I’d have to do Harry, cause h a r r y s t y l e s

And he posts the ask without a second thought.

Now, the thing that he’s forgotten is that when No Control came out, he’d tweeted his appreciation of it- which was quickly dug up by the fandom (as in something to the effect of twenty minutes of Louis watching in horror) and lots of things were pieced together (in somewhere to the effect of thirty or forty minutes of people screaming on his dash and his activity spiking and hundreds of new followers and Louis trying to figure out what the fuck is happening) and suddenly Louis has one thousand followers and counting (rapidly, jesus fuck), fifteen new messages, and twenty new asks. He turns off notifications before his phone has a heart attack (for the second time in two days this is not okay) and closes Tumblr. He’s got about thirty minutes to get back to the bus, so he thanks the waitress (again) and starts walking.

Louis passes in front of the antique shop, where the lady waves at him. He waves back and she smiles, sending him a thumbs-up and mouthing ‘ _good luck’_. Louis doesn’t really know what he needs luck for, but he nods as he passes and keeps walking towards where he remembers he came in.

He makes it to the bus just as it pulls up to the back of the studio where they arranged to meet, and the driver lets him on with a toothy grin and a clap on the shoulder. When Paul gets on, Harry close behind him, Louis flops on the bunk Harry had occupied last night. The pillow smells faintly of Harry’s shampoo, something warm and softly vanilla. Louis’ taken to using it when he showers (not because he _likes_ the smell, or anything- he just… okay but he just likes it because it makes his hair fluffy). Harry crawls into the bunk, smelling of sweat, hairspray, hand lotion, and studio. Louis wriggles towards the back of the tiny space to make room for Harry, who lets Louis wrangle him around until his chest is Louis’ pillow and Louis has a leg tucked between his.

“How were the interviews, love?” Louis can hear Harry’s heart beating steadily beneath his head.

“They were alright, the usual shit of what do you look for in a guy, all that. Oh, can you believe, they asked about that rumor that we were dating,” Harry snorts.

Louis blinks. Right. That was a thing. “What’d you say?”

“I told them it was all bullshit. We’re not dating as far as I remember.”

“But what if I want us to be?” Louis asks, all the courage he’s built up today all pouring into eight simple words.

“Then I guess we are,” Harry smiles down at Louis, who’s watching him carefully for any sign of teasing.

“Really?” For the first time in a long time, Louis feels vulnerable, which is something he usually never feels around anyone, least of all Harry. He doesn’t know if Harry is trying to string him along and then drop him when he finds a better man to date, someone who can lavish expensive gifts on him and bring him to fancy places for weekend dates.

“Oh, Lou, but that’s not what I’m looking for in a relationship.” Louis is confused until he realizes that he accidentally said the last sentence out loud. “I’m not really looking for gifts and parties and things like that. I already get enough of those. I just want quiet nights in and watching you try to cook and rewatching movies together. I want someone who knows me and _you do_. You’re the only one I want, Louis.”

Louis’ teared up even though he didn’t mean to. It turns out that ‘not meaning to’ holds a lot of power in this world.

“So I’m going to ask you officially. Harry Styles, International Superstar, will you be my boyfriend?” Louis props himself up on his elbows on Harry’s chest.

In answer, Harry pulls him down into a kiss.

 

 

 

 

-fin (not really but for now :D)

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to my beta blue for putting up with me and my emails. her links and my tumblr will be added when i'm revealed.  
> since this was super rushed (especially the end), there may be typos and shit i missed. lemme know if you spot one!  
> comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> again, apologies for turning this in so late. i will be adding and changing scenes for a little while so definitely keep an eye out for that!  
> edit 6.9.16: this has been britpicked by grace (THANK YOU) and edited a little! the ending still isn't finished- that's going to be a little while still :)
> 
> edit 6.13.16: holy shit over 1k hits!?!??!?!?!? oh my god I love you all
> 
> edit 6.25.16: oh my fucking god 2k hits i'm crying i love you all so much you have no idea
> 
> edit 7.1.16: [ my tumblr!! ](http://smollest-louis.tumblr.com) and [ blue's tumblr!! ](http://iambluehead.tumblr.com) and [ grace's tumblr!! ](http://achilleus.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> edit 9.26.16: HI I MADE A NEW TUMBLR JUST FOR MY FICS FIND ME HERE [ my tumblr ](https://babylxxrry.tumblr.com)


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